“At any rate,” observed Gideon Spilett to the sailor, “the explosion,
if there has been one, has produced singular effects! It has split the
lower part of the hull, instead of blowing up the deck and topsides!
These great rents appear rather to have been made by a rock than by the
explosion of a powder-magazine.”
“There is not a rock in the channel!” answered the sailor. “I will admit
anything you like, except the rock.”
“Let us try to penetrate into the interior of the brig,” said the
engineer; “perhaps we shall then know what to think of the cause of her
destruction.”
This was the best thing to be done, and it was agreed, besides, to
take an inventory of all the treasures on board, and to arrange their
preservation.
Access to the interior of the brig was now easy. The tide was still
going down and the deck was practicable. The ballast, composed of heavy
masses of iron, had broken through in several places. The noise of the
sea could be heard as it rushed out at the holes in the hull.
Cyrus Harding and his companions, hatchets in hand, advanced along the
shattered deck. Cases of all sorts encumbered it, and, as they had
been but a very short time in the water, their contents were perhaps
uninjured.
They then busied themselves in placing all this cargo in safety. The
water would not return for several hours, and these hours must be
employed in the most profitable way. Ayrton and Pencroft had, at the
entrance made in the hull, discovered tackle, which would serve to hoist
up the barrels and chests. The boat received them and transported them
to the shore. They took the articles as they came, intending to sort
them afterwards.
At any rate, the settlers saw at once, with extreme satisfaction, that
the brig possessed a very varied cargo--an assortment of all sorts of
articles, utensils, manufactured goods, and tools--such as the ships
which make the great coasting-trade of Polynesia are usually laden with.
It was probable that they would find a little of everything, and they
agreed that it was exactly what was necessary for the colony of Lincoln
Island.
However--and Cyrus Harding observed it in silent astonishment--not only,
as has been said, had the hull of the brig enormously suffered from the
shock, whatever it was, that had occasioned the catastrophe, but the
interior arrangements had been destroyed, especially towards the bows.
Partitions and stanchions were smashed, as if some tremendous shell had
burst in the interior of the brig. The colonists could easily go fore
and aft, after having removed the cases as they were extricated. They
were not heavy bales, which would have been difficult to remove,
but simple packages, of which the stowage, besides, was no longer
recognizable.
The colonists then reached the stern of the brig--the part formerly
surmounted by the poop. It was there that, following Ayrton’s
directions, they must look for the powder-magazine. Cyrus Harding
thought that it had not exploded; that it was possible some barrels
might be saved, and that the powder, which is usually enclosed in metal
coverings might not have suffered from contact with the water.
This, in fact, was just what had happened. They extricated from among
a large number of shot twenty barrels, the insides of which were lined
with copper. Pencroft was convinced by the evidence of his own eyes that
the destruction of the “Speedy” could not be attributed to an explosion.
That part of the hull in which the magazine was situated was, moreover,
that which had suffered least.
“It may be so,” said the obstinate sailor; “but as to a rock, there is
not one in the channel!”
“Then, how did it happen?” asked Herbert.
“I don’t know,” answered Pencroft, “Captain Harding doesn’t know, and
nobody knows or ever will know!”
Several hours had passed during these researches, and the tide began to
flow. Work must be suspended for the present. There was no fear of the
brig being carried away by the sea, for she was already fixed as firmly
as if moored by her anchors.
They could, therefore, without inconvenience, wait until the next day to
resume operations; but, as to the vessel itself, she was doomed, and it
would be best to hasten to save the remains of her hull, as she would
not be long in disappearing in the quicksands of the channel.
It was now five o’clock in the evening. It had been a hard day’s work
for the men. They ate with good appetite, and notwithstanding their
fatigue, they could not resist, after dinner, their desire of inspecting
the cases which composed the cargo of the “Speedy.”
Most of them contained clothes, which, as may be believed, was well
received. There were enough to clothe a whole colony--linen for every
one’s use, shoes for every one’s feet.
“We are too rich!” exclaimed Pencroft, “But what are we going to do with
all this?”
And every moment burst forth the hurrahs of the delighted sailor when he
caught sight of the barrels of gunpowder, firearms and sidearms,
balls of cotton, implements of husbandry, carpenter’s, joiner’s, and
blacksmith’s tools, and boxes of all kinds of seeds, not in the least
injured by their short sojourn in the water. Ah, two years before,
how these things would have been prized! And now, even though the
industrious colonists had provided themselves with tools, these
treasures would find their use.
There was no want of space in the store-rooms of Granite House, but that
daytime would not allow them to stow away the whole. It would not do
also to forget that the six survivors of the “Speedy’s” crew had landed
on the island, for they were in all probability scoundrels of the
deepest dye, and it was necessary that the colonists should be on their
guard against them. Although the bridges over the Mercy were raised,
the convicts would not be stopped by a river or a stream and, rendered
desperate, these wretches would be capable of anything.
They would see later what plan it would be best to follow; but in the
meantime it was necessary to mount guard over cases and packages heaped
up near the Chimneys, and thus the settlers employed themselves in turn
during the night.
The morning came, however, without the convicts having attempted any
attack. Master Jup and Top, on guard at the foot of Granite House, would
have quickly given the alarm. The three following days--the 19th, 20th,
and 21st of October--were employed in saving everything of value, or of
any use whatever, either from the cargo or rigging of the brig. At low
tide they overhauled the hold--at high tide they stowed away the rescued
articles. A great part of the copper sheathing had been torn from the
hull, which every day sank lower. But before the sand had swallowed the
heavy things which had fallen through the bottom, Ayrton and Pencroft,
diving to the bed of the channel, recovered the chains and anchors of
the brig, the iron of her ballast, and even four guns, which, floated by
means of empty casks, were brought to shore.
It may be seen that the arsenal of the colony had gained by the
wreck, as well as the storerooms of Granite House. Pencroft, always
enthusiastic in his projects, already spoke of constructing a battery
to command the channel and the mouth of the river. With four guns,
he engaged to prevent any fleet, “however powerful it might be,” from
venturing into the waters of Lincoln Island!
In the meantime, when nothing remained of the brig but a useless hulk,
bad weather came on, which soon finished her. Cyrus Harding had intended
to blow her up, so as to collect the remains on the shore, but a strong
gale from the northeast and a heavy sea compelled him to economize his
powder.
In fact, on the night of the 23rd, the hull entirely broke up, and some
of the wreck was cast up on the beach.
As to the papers on board, it is useless to say that, although he
carefully searched the lockers of the poop, Harding did not discover
any trace of them. The pirates had evidently destroyed everything that
concerned either the captain or the owners of the “Speedy,” and, as the
name of her port was not painted on her counter, there was nothing which
would tell them her nationality. However, by the shape of her boats
Ayrton and Pencroft believed that the brig was of English build.
A week after the castrophe--or, rather, after the fortunate, though
inexplicable, event to which the colony owed its preservation--nothing
more could be seen of the vessel, even at low tide. The wreck had
disappeared, and Granite House was enriched by nearly all it had
contained.
However, the mystery which enveloped its strange destruction would
doubtless never have been cleared away if, on the 30th of November, Neb,
strolling on the beach, had not found a piece of a thick iron cylinder,
bearing traces of explosion. The edges of this cylinder were twisted and
broken, as if they had been subjected to the action of some explosive
substance.
Neb brought this piece of metal to his master, who was then occupied
with his companions in the workshop of the Chimneys.
Cyrus Harding examined the cylinder attentively, then, turning to
Pencroft,--
“You persist, my friend,” said he, “in maintaining that the ‘Speedy’ was
not lost in consequence of a collision?”
“Yes, captain,” answered the sailor. “You know as well as I do that
there are no rocks in the channel.”
“But suppose she had run against this piece of iron?” said the engineer,
showing the broken cylinder.
“What, that bit of pipe!” exclaimed Pencroft in a tone of perfect
incredulity.
“My friends,” resumed Harding, “you remember that before she foundered
the brig rose on the summit of a regular waterspout?”
“Yes, captain,” replied Herbert.
“Well, would you like to know what occasioned that waterspout? It was
this,” said the engineer, holding up the broken tube.
“That?” returned Pencroft.
“Yes! This cylinder is all that remains of a torpedo!”
“A torpedo!” exclaimed the engineer’s companions.
“And who put the torpedo there?” demanded Pencroft, who did not like to
yield.
“All that I can tell you is, that it was not I,” answered Cyrus Harding;
“but it was there, and you have been able to judge of its incomparable
power!”
Chapter 5
So, then, all was explained by the submarine explosion of this torpedo.
Cyrus Harding could not be mistaken, as, during the war of the Union,
he had had occasion to try these terrible engines of destruction. It
was under the action of this cylinder, charged with some explosive
substance, nitro-glycerine, picrate, or some other material of the same
nature, that the water of the channel had been raised like a dome, the
bottom of the brig crushed in, and she had sunk instantly, the damage
done to her hull being so considerable that it was impossible to refloat
her. The “Speedy” had not been able to withstand a torpedo that would
have destroyed an ironclad as easily as a fishing-boat!
Yes! all was explained, everything--except the presence of the torpedo
in the waters of the channel!
“My friends, then,” said Cyrus Harding, “we can no longer be in doubt
as to the presence of a mysterious being, a castaway like us, perhaps,
abandoned on our island, and I say this in order that Ayrton may be
acquainted with all the strange events which have occurred during these
two years. Who this beneficent stranger is, whose intervention has, so
fortunately for us, been manifested on many occasions, I cannot imagine.
What his object can be in acting thus, in concealing himself after
rendering us so many services, I cannot understand: But his services are
not the less real, and are of such a nature that only a man possessed of
prodigious power, could render them. Ayrton is indebted to him as much
as we are, for, if it was the stranger who saved me from the waves after
the fall from the balloon, evidently it was he who wrote the document,
who placed the bottle in the channel, and who has made known to us the
situation of our companion. I will add that it was he who guided that
chest, provided with everything we wanted, and stranded it on Flotsam
Point; that it was he who lighted that fire on the heights of the
island, which permitted you to land; that it was he who fired that
bullet found in the body of the peccary; that it was he who plunged that
torpedo into the channel, which destroyed the brig; in a word, that all
those inexplicable events, for which we could not assign a reason, are
due to this mysterious being. Therefore, whoever he may be, whether
shipwrecked, or exiled on our island, we shall be ungrateful, if we
think ourselves freed from gratitude towards him. We have contracted a
debt, and I hope that we shall one day pay it.”
“You are right in speaking thus, my dear Cyrus,” replied Gideon Spilett.
“Yes, there is an almost all-powerful being, hidden in some part of the
island, and whose influence has been singularly useful to our colony.
I will add that the unknown appears to possess means of action which
border on the supernatural, if in the events of practical life the
supernatural were recognizable. Is it he who is in secret communication
with us by the well in Granite House, and has he thus a knowledge of all
our plans? Was it he who threw us that bottle, when the vessel made her
first cruise? Was it he who threw Top out of the lake, and killed the
dugong? Was it he, who as everything leads us to believe, saved you from
the waves, and that under circumstances in which any one else would not
have been able to act? If it was he, he possesses a power which renders
him master of the elements.”
The reporter’s reasoning was just, and every one felt it to be so.
“Yes,” rejoined Cyrus Harding, “if the intervention of a human being is
not more questionable for us, I agree that he has at his disposal means
of action beyond those possessed by humanity. There is a mystery still,
but if we discover the man, the mystery will be discovered also. The
question, then, is, ought we to respect the incognito of this generous
being, or ought we to do everything to find him out? What is your
opinion on the matter?”
“My opinion,” said Pencroft, “is that, whoever he may be, he is a brave
man, and he has my esteem!”
“Be it so,” answered Harding, “but that is not an answer, Pencroft.”
“Master,” then said Neb, “my idea is, that we may search as long as we
like for this gentleman whom you are talking about, but that we shall
not discover him till he pleases.”
“That’s not bad, what you say, Neb,” observed Pencroft.
“I am of Neb’s opinion,” said Gideon Spilett, “but that is no reason for
not attempting the adventure. Whether we find this mysterious being or
not, we shall at least have fulfilled our duty towards him.”
“And you, my boy, give us your opinion,” said the engineer, turning to
Herbert.
“Oh,” cried Herbert, his countenance full of animation, “how I should
like to thank him, he who saved you first, and who has now saved us!”
“Of course, my boy,” replied Pencroft, “so would I and all of us. I am
not inquisitive, but I would give one of my eyes to see this individual
face to face! It seems to me that he must be handsome, tall, strong,
with a splendid beard, radiant hair, and that he must be seated on
clouds, a great ball in his hands!”
“But, Pencroft,” answered Spilett, “you are describing a picture of the
Creator.”
“Possibly, Mr. Spilett,” replied the sailor, “but that is how I imagine
him!”
“And you, Ayrton?” asked the engineer.
“Captain Harding,” replied Ayrton, “I can give you no better advice in
this matter. Whatever you do will be best; when you wish me to join you
in your researches, I am ready to follow you.
“I thank you, Ayrton,” answered Cyrus Harding, “but I should like a more
direct answer to the question I put to you. You are our companion; you
have already endangered your life several times for us, and you, as
well as the rest, ought to be consulted in the matter of any important
decision. Speak, therefore.”
“Captain Harding,” replied Ayrton, “I think that we ought to do
everything to discover this unknown benefactor. Perhaps he is alone.
Perhaps he is suffering. Perhaps he has a life to be renewed. I, too,
as you said, have a debt of gratitude to pay him. It was he, it could be
only he who must have come to Tabor Island, who found there the wretch
you knew, and who made known to you that there was an unfortunate man
there to be saved. Therefore it is, thanks to him, that I have become a
man again. No, I will never forget him!”
“That is settled, then,” said Cyrus Harding. “We will begin our
researches as soon as possible. We will not leave a corner of the island
unexplored. We will search into its most secret recesses, and will
hope that our unknown friend will pardon us in consideration of our
intentions!”
For several days the colonists were actively employed in haymaking and
the harvest. Before putting their project of exploring the yet unknown
parts of the island into execution, they wished to get all possible work
finished. It was also the time for collecting the various vegetables
from the Tabor Island plants. All was stowed away, and happily there was
no want of room in Granite House, in which they might have housed all
the treasures of the island. The products of the colony were there,
methodically arranged, and in a safe place, as may be believed,
sheltered as much from animals as from man.
There was no fear of damp in the middle of that thick mass of granite.
Many natural excavations situated in the upper passage were enlarged
either by pick-axe or mine, and Granite House thus became a general
warehouse, containing all the provisions, arms, tools, and spare
utensils--in a word, all the stores of the colony.
As to the guns obtained from the brig, they were pretty pieces of
ordnance, which, at Pencroft’s entreaty, were hoisted by means of tackle
and pulleys, right up into Granite House; embrasures were made between
the windows, and the shining muzzles of the guns could soon be seen
through the granite cliff. From this height they commanded all Union
Bay. It was like a little Gibraltar, and any vessel anchored off the
islet would inevitably be exposed to the fire of this aerial battery.
“Captain,” said Pencroft one day, it was the 8th of November, “now that
our fortifications are finished, it would be a good thing if we tried
the range of our guns.”
“Do you think that is useful?” asked the engineer.
“It is more than useful, it is necessary! Without that how are we to
know to what distance we can send one of those pretty shot with which we
are provided?”
“Try them, Pencroft,” replied the engineer. “However, I think that in
making the experiment, we ought to employ, not the ordinary powder,
the supply of which, I think, should remain untouched, but the pyroxyle
which will never fail us.”
“Can the cannon support the shock of the pyroxyle?” asked the reporter,
who was not less anxious than Pencroft to try the artillery of Granite
House.
“I believe so. However,” added the engineer, “we will be prudent.” The
engineer was right in thinking that the guns were of excellent make.
Made of forged steel, and breech-loaders, they ought consequently to be
able to bear a considerable charge, and also have an enormous range.
In fact, as regards practical effect, the transit described by the ball
ought to be as extended as possible, and this tension could only be
obtained under the condition that the projectile should be impelled with
a very great initial velocity.
“Now,” said Harding to his companions, “the initial velocity is in
proportion to the quantity of powder used. In the fabrication of
these pieces, everything depends on employing a metal with the highest
possible power of resistance, and steel is incontestably that metal of
all others which resists the best. I have, therefore, reason to believe
that our guns will bear without risk the expansion of the pyroxyle gas,
and will give excellent results.”
“We shall be a great deal more certain of that when we have tried them!”
answered Pencroft.
It is unnecessary to say that the four cannons were in perfect order.
Since they had been taken from the water, the sailor had bestowed great
care upon them. How many hours he had spent, in rubbing, greasing, and
polishing them, and in cleaning the mechanism! And now the pieces were
as brilliant as if they had been on board a frigate of the United States
Navy.
On this day, therefore, in presence of all the members of the colony,
including Master Jup and Top, the four cannon were successively tried.
They were charged with pyroxyle, taking into consideration its explosive
power, which, as has been said, is four times that of ordinary powder:
the projectile to be fired was cylindroconic.
Pencroft, holding the end of the quick-match, stood ready to fire.
At Harding’s signal, he fired. The shot, passing over the islet,
fell into the sea at a distance which could not be calculated with
exactitude.
The second gun was pointed at the rocks at the end of Flotsam Point, and
the shot striking a sharp rock nearly three miles from Granite House,
made it fly into splinters. It was Herbert who had pointed this gun and
fired it, and very proud he was of his first shot. Pencroft only was
prouder than he! Such a shot, the honor of which belonged to his dear
boy.
The third shot, aimed this time at the downs forming the upper side
of Union Bay, struck the sand at a distance of four miles, then having
ricocheted: was lost in the sea in a cloud of spray.
For the fourth piece Cyrus Harding slightly increased the charge, so
as to try its extreme range. Then, all standing aside for fear of its
bursting, the match was lighted by means of a long cord.
A tremendous report was heard, but the piece had held good, and the
colonists rushing to the windows, saw the shot graze the rocks of
Mandible Cape, nearly five miles from Granite House, and disappear in
Shark Gulf.
“Well, captain,” exclaimed Pencroft, whose cheers might have rivaled the
reports themselves, “what do you say of our battery? All the pirates in
the Pacific have only to present themselves before Granite House! Not
one can land there now without our permission!”
“Believe me, Pencroft,” replied the engineer, “it would be better not to
have to make the experiment.”
“Well,” said the sailor, “what ought to be done with regard to those
six villains who are roaming about the island? Are we to leave them
to overrun our forests, our fields, our plantations? These pirates are
regular jaguars, and it seems to me we ought not to hesitate to treat
them as such! What do you think, Ayrton?” added Pencroft, turning to his
companion.
Ayrton hesitated at first to reply, and Cyrus Harding regretted that
Pencroft had so thoughtlessly put this question. And he was much moved
when Ayrton replied in a humble tone,--
“I have been one of those jaguars, Mr. Pencroft. I have no right to
speak.”
And with a slow step he walked away.
Pencroft understood.
“What a brute I am!” he exclaimed. “Poor Ayrton! He has as much right to
speak here as any one!”
“Yes,” said Gideon Spilett, “but his reserve does him honor, and it is
right to respect the feeling which he has about his sad past.”
“Certainly, Mr. Spilett,” answered the sailor, “and there is no fear of
my doing so again. I would rather bite my tongue off than cause Ayrton
any pain! But to return to the question. It seems to me that these
ruffians have no right to any pity, and that we ought to rid the island
of them as soon as possible.”
“Is that your opinion, Pencroft?” asked the engineer.
“Quite my opinion.”
“And before hunting them mercilessly, you would not wait until they had
committed some fresh act of hostility against us?”
“Isn’t what they have done already enough?” asked Pencroft, who did not
understand these scruples.
“They may adopt other sentiments!” said Harding, “and perhaps repent.”
“They repent!” exclaimed the sailor, shrugging his shoulders.
“Pencroft, think of Ayrton!” said Herbert, taking the sailor’s hand. “He
became an honest man again!”
Pencroft looked at his companions one after the other. He had never
thought of his proposal being met with any objection. His rough nature
could not allow that they ought to come to terms with the rascals who
had landed on the island with Bob Harvey’s accomplices, the murderers of
the crew of the “Speedy,” and he looked upon them as wild beasts which
ought to be destroyed without delay and without remorse.
“Come!” said be. “Everybody is against me! You wish to be generous to
those villains! Very well; I hope we mayn’t repent it!”
“What danger shall we run,” said Herbert, “if we take care to be always
on our guard?”
“Hum!” observed the reporter, who had not given any decided opinion.
“They are six and well armed. If they each lay hid in a corner, and each
fired at one of us, they would soon be masters of the colony!”
“Why have they not done so?” said Herbert. “No doubt because it was not
their interest to do it. Besides, we are six also.”
“Well, well!” replied Pencroft, whom no reasoning could have convinced.
“Let us leave these good people to do what they like, and don’t think
anything more about them!”
“Come, Pencroft,” said Neb, “don’t make yourself out so bad as all that!
Suppose one of these unfortunate men were here before you, within good
range of your guns, you would not fire.”
“I would fire on him as I would on a mad dog, Neb,” replied Pencroft
coldly.
“Pencroft,” said the engineer, “you have always shown much deference to
my advice; will you, in this matter, yield to me?”
“I will do as you please, Captain Harding,” answered the sailor, who was
not at all convinced.
“Very well, wait, and we will not attack them unless we are attacked
first.”
Thus their behavior towards the pirates was agreed upon, although
Pencroft augured nothing good from it. They were not to attack them, but
were to be on their guard. After all, the island was large and fertile.
If any sentiment of honesty yet remained in the bottom of their hearts,
these wretches might perhaps be reclaimed. Was it not their interest in
the situation in which they found themselves to begin a new life? At
any rate, for humanity’s sake alone, it would be right to wait. The
colonists would no longer as before, be able to go and come without
fear. Hitherto they had only wild beasts to guard against, and now six
convicts of the worst description, perhaps, were roaming over their
island. It was serious, certainly, and to less brave men, it would have
been security lost! No matter! At present, the colonists had reason on
their side against Pencroft. Would they be right in the future? That
remained to be seen.
Chapter 6
However, the chief business of the colonists was to make that complete
exploration of the island which had been decided upon, and which would
have two objects: to discover the mysterious being whose existence was
now indisputable, and at the same time to find out what had become of
the pirates, what retreat they had chosen, what sort of life they were
leading, and what was to be feared from them. Cyrus Harding wished
to set out without delay; but as the expedition would be of some days
duration, it appeared best to load the cart with different materials and
tools in order to facilitate the organization of the encampments. One
of the onagers, however, having hurt its leg, could not be harnessed
at present, and a few days’ rest was necessary. The departure was,
therefore, put off for a week, until the 20th of November. The month
of November in this latitude corresponds to the month of May in the
northern zones. It was, therefore, the fine season. The sun was entering
the tropic of Capricorn, and gave the longest days in the year. The time
was, therefore, very favorable for the projected expedition, which,
if it did not accomplish its principal object, would at any rate be
fruitful in discoveries, especially of natural productions, since
Harding proposed to explore those dense forests of the Far West, which
stretched to the extremity of the Serpentine Peninsula.
During the nine days which preceded their departure, it was agreed that
the work on Prospect Heights should be finished off.
Moreover, it was necessary for Ayrton to return to the corral, where the
domesticated animals required his care. It was decided that he should
spend two days there, and return to Granite House after having liberally
supplied the stables.
As he was about to start, Harding asked him if he would not like one
of them to accompany him, observing that the island was less safe than
formerly. Ayrton replied that this was unnecessary, as he was enough
for the work, and that besides he apprehended no danger. If anything
occurred at the corral, or in the neighborhood, he could instantly warn
the colonists by sending a telegram to Granite House.
Ayrton departed at dawn on the 9th, taking the cart drawn by one onager,
and two hours after, the electric wire announced that he had found all
in order at the corral.
During these two days Harding busied himself in executing a project
which would completely guard Granite House against any surprise. It was
necessary to completely conceal the opening of the old outlet, which
was already walled up and partly hidden under grass and plants, at the
southern angle of Lake Grant. Nothing was easier, since if the level
of the lake was raised two or three feet, the opening would be quite
beneath it. Now, to raise this level they had only to establish a dam at
the two openings made by the lake, and by which were fed Creek Glycerine
and Falls River.
The colonists worked with a will, and the two dams which besides did not
exceed eight feet in width by three in height, were rapidly erected by
means of well-cemented blocks of stone.
This work finished, it would have been impossible to guess that at that
part of the lake, there existed a subterranean passage through which the
overflow of the lake formerly escaped.
Of course the little stream which fed the reservoir of Granite House and
worked the lift, had been carefully preserved, and the water could not
fail. The lift once raised, this sure and comfortable retreat would be
safe from any surprise.
This work had been so quickly done, that Pencroft, Gideon Spilett, and
Herbert found time to make an expedition to Port Balloon, The sailor was
very anxious to know if the little creek in which the “Bonadventure” was
moored, had been visited by the convicts.
“These gentlemen,” he observed, “landed on the south coast, and if they
followed the shore, it is to be feared that they may have discovered the
little harbor, and in that case, I wouldn’t give half-a-dollar for our
‘Bonadventure.’”
Pencroft’s apprehensions were not without foundation, and a visit
to Port Balloon appeared to be very desirable. The sailor and his
companions set off on the 10th of November, after dinner, well armed.
Pencroft, ostentatiously slipping two bullets into each barrel of his
rifle, shook his head in a way which betokened nothing good to any one
who approached too near him, whether “man or beast,” as he said. Gideon
Spilett and Herbert also took their guns, and about three o’clock all
three left Granite House.
Neb accompanied them to the turn of the Mercy, and after they had
crossed, he raised the bridge. It was agreed that a gunshot should
announce the colonists’ return, and that at the signal Neb should return
and reestablish the communication between the two banks of the river.
The little band advanced directly along the road which led to the
southern coast of the island. This was only a distance of three miles
and a half, but Gideon Spilett and his companions took two hours to
traverse it. They examined all the border of the road, the thick forest,
as well as Tabor Marsh. They found no trace of the fugitives who, no
doubt, not having yet discovered the number of the colonists, or the
means of defense which they had at their disposal, had gained the less
accessible parts of the island.
Arrived at Port Balloon, Pencroft saw with extreme satisfaction that
the “Bonadventure” was tranquilly floating in the narrow creek. However,
Port Balloon was so well hidden among high rocks, that it could scarcely
be discovered either from the land or the sea.
“Come,” said Pencroft, “the blackguards have not been there yet. Long
grass suits reptiles best, and evidently we shall find them in the Far
West.”
“And it’s very lucky, for if they had found the ‘Bonadventure’,” added
Herbert, “they would have gone off in her, and we should have been
prevented from returning to Tabor Island.”
“Indeed,” remarked the reporter, “it will be important to take a
document there which will make known the situation of Lincoln Island,
and Ayrton’s new residence, in case the Scotch yacht returns to fetch
him.”
“Well, the ‘Bonadventure’ is always there, Mr. Spilett,” answered the
sailor. “She and her crew are ready to start at a moment’s notice!”
“I think, Pencroft, that that is a thing to be done after our
exploration of the island is finished. It is possible after all that the
stranger, if we manage to find him, may know as much about Tabor Island
as about Lincoln Island. Do not forget that he is certainly the author
of the document, and he may, perhaps, know how far we may count on the
return of the yacht!”
“But!” exclaimed Pencroft, “who in the world can he be? The fellow knows
us and we know nothing about him! If he is a simple castaway, why should
he conceal himself! We are honest men, I suppose, and the society of
honest men isn’t unpleasant to any one. Did he come here voluntarily?
Can he leave the island if he likes? Is he here still? Will he remain
any longer?”
Chatting thus, Pencroft, Gideon Spilett, and Herbert got on board and
looked about the deck of the “Bonadventure.” All at once, the sailor
having examined the bitts to which the cable of the anchor was
secured,--
“Hallo,” he cried, “this is queer!”
“What is the matter, Pencroft?” asked the reporter.
“The matter is, that it was not I who made this knot!”
And Pencroft showed a rope which fastened the cable to the bitt itself.
“What, it was not you?” asked Gideon Spilett.
“No! I can swear to it. This is a reef knot, and I always make a running
bowline.”
“You must be mistaken, Pencroft.”
“I am not mistaken!” declared the sailor. “My hand does it so naturally,
and one’s hand is never mistaken!”
“Then can the convicts have been on board?” asked Herbert.
“I know nothing about that,” answered Pencroft, “but what is certain,
is that some one has weighed the ‘Bonadventure’s’ anchor and dropped it
again! And look here, here is another proof! The cable of the anchor has
been run out, and its service is no longer at the hawse-hole. I repeat
that some one has been using our vessel!”
“But if the convicts had used her, they would have pillaged her, or
rather gone off with her.”
“Gone off! where to--to Tabor Island?” replied Pencroft. “Do you think,
they would risk themselves in a boat of such small tonnage?”
“We must, besides, be sure that they know of the islet,” rejoined the
reporter.
“However that may be,” said the sailor, “as sure as my name is
Bonadventure Pencroft, of the Vineyard, our ‘Bonadventure’ has sailed
without us!”
The sailor was positive that neither Gideon Spilett nor Herbert could
dispute his statement. It was evident that the vessel had been moved,
more or less, since Pencroft had brought her to Port Balloon. As to the
sailor, he had not the slightest doubt that the anchor had been raised
and then dropped again. Now, what was the use of these two maneuvers,
unless the vessel had been employed in some expedition?
“But how was it we did not see the ‘Bonadventure’ pass in the sight of
the island?” observed the reporter, who was anxious to bring forward
every possible objection.
“Why, Mr. Spilett,” replied the sailor, “they would only have to start
in the night with a good breeze, and they would be out of sight of the
island in two hours.”
“Well,” resumed Gideon Spilett, “I ask again, what object could the
convicts have had in using the ‘Bonadventure,’ and why, after they had
made use of her, should they have brought her back to port?”
“Why, Mr. Spilett,” replied the sailor, “we must put that among the
unaccountable things, and not think anything more about it. The chief
thing is that the ‘Bonadventure’ was there, and she is there now. Only,
unfortunately, if the convicts take her a second time, we shall very
likely not find her again in her place!”
“Then, Pencroft,” said Herbert, “would it not be wisest to bring the
‘Bonadventure’ off to Granite House?”
“Yes and no,” answered Pencroft, “or rather no. The mouth of the Mercy
is a bad place for a vessel, and the sea is heavy there.”
“But by hauling her up on the sand, to the foot of the Chimneys?”
“Perhaps yes,” replied Pencroft. “At any rate, since we must leave
Granite House for a long expedition, I think the ‘Bonadventure’ will be
safer here during our absence, and we shall do best to leave her here
until the island is rid of these blackguards.”
“That is exactly my opinion,” said the reporter. “At any rate in the
event of bad weather, she will not be exposed here as she would be at
the mouth of the Mercy.”
“But suppose the convicts pay her another visit,” said Herbert.
“Well, my boy,” replied Pencroft, “not finding her here, they would not
be long in finding her on the sands of Granite House, and, during our
absence, nothing could hinder them from seizing her! I agree, therefore,
with Mr. Spilett, that she must be left in Port Balloon. But, if on our
return we have not rid the island of those rascals, it will be prudent
to bring our boat to Granite House, until the time when we need not fear
any unpleasant visits.”
“That’s settled. Let us be off,” said the reporter.
Pencroft, Herbert, and Gideon Spilett, on their return to Granite House,
told the engineer all that had passed, and the latter approved of their
arrangements both for the present and the future. He also promised the
sailor that he would study that part of the channel situated between the
islet and the coast, so as to ascertain if it would not be possible
to make an artificial harbor there by means of dams. In this way, the
“Bonadventure” would be always within reach, under the eyes of the
colonists, and if necessary, under lock and key.
That evening a telegram was sent to Ayrton, requesting him to bring from
the corral a couple of goats, which Neb wished to acclimatize to the
plateau. Singularly enough, Ayrton did not acknowledge the receipt of
the despatch, as he was accustomed to do. This could not but astonish
the engineer. But it might be that Ayrton was not at that moment in the
corral, or even that he was on his way back to Granite House. In fact,
two days had already passed since his departure, and it had been decided
that on the evening of the 10th or at the latest the morning of the
11th, he should return. The colonists waited, therefore, for Ayrton to
appear on Prospect Heights. Neb and Herbert even watched at the bridge
so as to be ready to lower it the moment their companion presented
himself.
But up to ten in the evening, there were no signs of Ayrton. It was,
therefore, judged best to send a fresh despatch, requiring an immediate
reply.
The bell of the telegraph at Granite House remained mute.
The colonists’ uneasiness was great. What had happened? Was Ayrton no
longer at the corral, or if he was still there, had he no longer control
over his movements? Could they go to the corral in this dark night?
They consulted. Some wished to go, the others to remain.
“But,” said Herbert, “perhaps some accident has happened to the
telegraphic apparatus, so that it works no longer?”
“That may be,” said the reporter.
“Wait till to-morrow,” replied Cyrus Harding. “It is possible, indeed,
that Ayrton has not received our despatch, or even that we have not
received his.”
They waited, of course not without some anxiety.
At dawn of day, the 11th of November, Harding again sent the electric
current along the wire and received no reply.
He tried again: the same result.
“Off to the corral,” said he.
“And well armed!” added Pencroft.
It was immediately decided that Granite House should not be left alone
and that Neb should remain there. After having accompanied his friends
to Creek Glycerine, he raised the bridge; and waiting behind a tree he
watched for the return of either his companions or Ayrton.
In the event of the pirates presenting themselves and attempting to
force the passage, he was to endeavor to stop them by firing on them,
and as a last resource he was to take refuge in Granite House, where,
the lift once raised, he would be in safety.
Cyrus Harding, Gideon Spilett, Herbert, and Pencroft were to repair
to the corral, and if they did not find Ayrton, search the neighboring
woods.
At six o’clock in the morning, the engineer and his three companions
had passed Creek Glycerine, and Neb posted himself behind a small mound
crowned by several dragon trees, on the left bank of the stream.
The colonists, after leaving the plateau of Prospect Heights,
immediately took the road to the corral. They shouldered their guns,
ready to fire on the slightest hostile demonstration. The two rifles and
the two guns had been loaded with ball.
The wood was thick on each side of the road and might easily have
concealed the convicts, who owing to their weapons would have been
really formidable.
The colonists walked rapidly and in silence. Top preceded them,
sometimes running on the road, sometimes taking a ramble into the wood,
but always quiet and not appearing to fear anything unusual. And
they could be sure that the faithful dog would not allow them to be
surprised, but would bark at the least appearance of danger.
Cyrus Harding and his companions followed beside the road the wire which
connected the corral with Granite House. After walking for nearly two
miles, they had not as yet discovered any explanation of the difficulty.
The posts were in good order, the wire regularly extended. However, at
that moment the engineer observed that the wire appeared to be slack,
and on arriving at post No. 74, Herbert, who was in advance stopped,
exclaiming,--
“The wire is broken!”
His companions hurried forward and arrived at the spot where the lad
was standing. The post was rooted up and lying across the path. The
unexpected explanation of the difficulty was here, and it was evident
that the despatches from Granite House had not been received at the
corral, nor those from the corral at Granite House.
“It wasn’t the wind that blew down this post,” observed Pencroft.
“No,” replied Gideon Spilett. “The earth has been dug up round its foot,
and it has been torn up by the hand of man.”
“Besides, the wire is broken,” added Herbert, showing that the wire had
been snapped.
“Is the fracture recent?” asked Harding.
“Yes,” answered Herbert, “it has certainly been done quite lately.”
“To the corral! to the corral!” exclaimed the sailor.
The colonists were now half way between Granite House and the corral,
having still two miles and a half to go. They pressed forward with
redoubled speed.
Indeed, it was to be feared that some serious accident had occurred in
the corral. No doubt, Ayrton might have sent a telegram which had not
arrived, but this was not the reason why his companions were so uneasy,
for, a more unaccountable circumstance, Ayrton, who had promised to
return the evening before, had not reappeared. In short, it was not
without a motive that all communication had been stopped between the
corral and Granite House, and who but the convicts could have any
interest in interrupting this communication?
The settlers hastened on, their hearts oppressed with anxiety. They were
sincerely attached to their new companion. Were they to find him struck
down by the hands of those of whom he was formerly the leader?
Soon they arrived at the place where the road led along the side of the
little stream which flowed from the Red Creek and watered the meadows
of the corral. They then moderated their pace so that they should not
be out of breath at the moment when a struggle might be necessary. Their
guns were in their hands ready cocked. The forest was watched on every
side. Top uttered sullen groans which were rather ominous.
At last the palisade appeared through the trees. No trace of any damage
could be seen. The gate was shut as usual. Deep silence reigned in the
corral. Neither the accustomed bleating of the sheep nor Ayrton’s voice
could be heard.
“Let us enter,” said Cyrus Harding.
And the engineer advanced, while his companions, keeping watch about
twenty paces behind him, were ready to fire at a moment’s notice.
Harding raised the inner latch of the gate and was about to push it
back, when Top barked loudly. A report sounded and was responded to by a
cry of pain.
Herbert, struck by a bullet, lay stretched on the ground.
Chapter 7
At Herbert’s cry, Pencroft, letting his gun fall, rushed towards him.
“They have killed him!” he cried. “My boy! They have killed him!”
Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spilett ran to Herbert.
The reporter listened to ascertain if the poor lad’s heart was still
beating.
“He lives,” said he, “but he must be carried--”
“To Granite House? that is impossible!” replied the engineer.
“Into the corral, then!” said Pencroft.
“In a moment,” said Harding.
And he ran round the left corner of the palisade. There he found a
convict, who aiming at him, sent a ball through his hat. In a few
seconds, before he had even time to fire his second barrel, he fell,
struck to the heart by Harding’s dagger, more sure even than his gun.
During this time, Gideon Spilett and the sailor hoisted themselves over
the palisade, leaped into the enclosure, threw down the props which
supported the inner door, ran into the empty house, and soon, poor
Herbert was lying on Ayrton’s bed. In a few moments, Harding was by his
side.
On seeing Herbert senseless, the sailor’s grief was terrible.
He sobbed, he cried, he tried to beat his head against the wall.
Neither the engineer nor the reporter could calm him. They themselves
were choked with emotion. They could not speak.
However, they knew that it depended on them to rescue from death the
poor boy who was suffering beneath their eyes. Gideon Spilett had not
passed through the many incidents by which his life had been checkered
without acquiring some slight knowledge of medicine. He knew a little
of everything, and several times he had been obliged to attend to wounds
produced either by a sword-bayonet or shot. Assisted by Cyrus Harding,
he proceeded to render the aid Herbert required.
The reporter was immediately struck by the complete stupor in which
Herbert lay, a stupor owing either to the hemorrhage, or to the shock,
the ball having struck a bone with sufficient force to produce a violent
concussion.
Herbert was deadly pale, and his pulse so feeble that Spilett only felt
it beat at long intervals, as if it was on the point of stopping.
These symptoms were very serious.
Herbert’s chest was laid bare, and the blood having been stanched with
handkerchiefs, it was bathed with cold water.
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